


Brooklyn Blues

by the-canary (siruru)



Series: NYC Boys [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bars and Pubs, Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Rejection, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Strangers to Lovers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-02-29 02:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18769201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siruru/pseuds/the-canary
Summary: At his age, Steve Rogers has a stellar career and a great group of friends. He thinks he has it all but after one drunken rant he realizes just how wrong he is. The question is, as the young woman had asked: what is he gonna do about it?





	1. please keep the lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcomed.

 It’s weird seeing it in front of him.  It's stranger hearing about it in some passing fancy between Sam and Bucky when they’ve had too much to drink since they were both gossipy drunks . 

>   _We cordially  invite you to…_

Blue eyes glance at the cursive that states the “second love of his life” is getting married in autumn. He had just received the invitation, though he had known about the whole thing for weeks now. Steve wishes that he could say that it hurt, that he wishes that it was his name next to Sharon’s like they had dreamed once.  Truth  be told  , Steve Rogers didn’t feel anything at all – anything warm and lovely that he once felt towards Sharon Carter had died before their relationship had ended .

Love wasn’t supposed to feel like that, Steve couldn’t help but think  reproachfully  before throwing the invitation into the trash . Instead of looking back at the relationship, that he thought was the “one” a good decades ago. He decides instead to focus on the singing and footsteps of co-workers that gather around him. He glances at the clock on the computer display.

 The advertising agency celebrates on July 2nd, as Steve Rogers hits the latter half of his 30’s with the world as his oyster .  

At least, that’s what he likes to think.

* * *

“Where are you going to tonight?” a softer voice asks, looking up from their book. Their roommate putting on her black bomber jacket above her business dress. It was an outfit that wasn’t supposed to work, but it did on her.

“Brooklyn,” she smiles. Light colored lipstick meant she wasn’t looking for anything but a drink.  If it  was red  , her roommate would have spent all night sitting next to the phone across from the entrance to their little cramped apartment, “To get a drink at Nat’s .”

Her roommate frowns at the mention of said redhead, but states: “Take care of yourself.”

She nods before grabbing her keys and exiting the door with a wave.  The whole living room is silent except for the echoing of fireworks from everywhere outside . Fireworks and booze were never a good combination. The little roommate hoped that she would actually take care of herself even if she didn’t want to.

* * *

The BLACK WIDOW sits in a corner of one of the train stops that  slowly  turns into the Brooklyn borough.  It isn’t where most of the night scene happens nor it is up to the latest trends, but it has a loyal and steady base of customers that come back for its signature drinks  .  It's uniqueness but grateful hospitality of the married couple that owned it -Natasha and Clint- kept it afloat .

The night had brought in a steady stream of customers, but as they night dragged they were  slowly  becoming less and less  .  They were going off to see the fireworks close to Brooklyn Bridge or moving to where young people and steady dancing was more prevalent . It was close to 11 p.m now and there are only four people left from what Nat could see behind the counter. Three in one of the back tables and one to her left.

It should be easy, but Nat and the only other woman could only frown at the loud, drunk yelling they heard from the group behind them  .  Natasha had to promise herself that she would kick whoever kept pouring the drinks when she had stopped sending them their way . Steve, Sam, and James were her dear friends, but were when they awful got like this.

> _“And then, I kicked her out–”_

> _“I just  don’t I’ll ever be ready for marriage, ya know?”_

> _“I really  don’t care if Sharon gets married. We weren’t made for each other.”_ 

**_What was love but a stupid ploy?_**

It was the same train of thought they ended these stupid monthly or weekly outings that they had, but Nat knew better than all three of them combined 

Bucky was afraid, Sam regretted, and Steve – well, Steve didn’t know what he wanted. They all wanted it in some way but weren’t ready or willing to seek it out. But, it wasn’t her place to say anything. Things were delicate as they were for her to bring up the subject of love in front of Bucky anyways.

It wasn’t the same for the customer that had been listening to them whine and complain as Natasha had. Green eyes watch her get up from her stool and walk over to them. She wasn’t exactly drunk with only two drinks, but she did have looser lips. Natasha is wiping the counter top when she hears it.

_“Are you guys really  _ _this pathetic_?” the customer exclaims as they all look at her. Nat can’t help but chuckle underneath her breath as she keeps going, “Big bad men to fuckin’ afraid of love. Goddamn sad if ya ask me.”

Bucky gets up, ready to start something in his anger and alcohol-fueled stupidity. Sam pushes him back down and she continues her assault.

_“Commitment issues, womanizer,_ ” she hums like going through a shopping list instead she is listing all their problems and hitting bull’s eye  . It’s then she looks at Steve and frowns, “ _A complete sentimental fool when it comes to love.”_

They are silent as she finishes her tirade, waiting for something else.  She huffs out a breathe: “You’re gonna regret the rest of your lives if ya keep sitting here and blame every other person except yourself .”

The word of warning  is combined  with a shrug of indifference as she turns around and says nothing else. The men  are left  sitting there, as she grabs her bag from the counter-top and leaves a hefty tip for Natasha. She's silent on her way out, though she shakes her head in their direction before exiting the building

 Somewhere between her leaving and Natasha closing the cashier for the night, egos are trying to  be repaired  as the three murmur among themselves. A scoff and  _who does she think she is_ ,  being thrown  around more than once, but Steve stays silent.

 “Alright guys,” Natasha exclaims as she drops the towel on the counter-top, “I’m closing up for the night and you all need to get home .”

She  is met  with silence, and though unsure of what they could all be thinking about Natasha decides to check in on them when they are sober. Hell, they might not ever remember the whole come tomorrow morning.  But as they all huddle and exit the now-closed bar, they all come in and hug the blond. Happy birthday ringing in the air, as Steve gives them a small smile before heading back to his apartment .

“What the hell was what?” he can’t help but exclaim with a laugh in the middle of the street, as he heads back home alone.

It’s July 5th and Steve Rogers has entered his late 30’s. He's unsure of what comes next in life and a certain woman’s voice keeps ringing in his head.

 


	2. i hate that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, it took awhile to figure out where i wanted this too go. a smaller chapter than usual but i wanted the chapter to end with this scene.

Steve Rogers can’t help but wonder if he's cursed after his birthday. He goes from the top of his game to the gutter and ends up losing two big clients for his company over silly, stupid move.  Who knew that sleeping with the Executive Director of the company (not that he knew at the time) and never calling her was a bad idea .

Though one should never put together business and pleasure together, something that he learned the hard way time and time again . He was running rampant with overtime and trying to change all this. But, his head kept going back to Nat’s bar and that one moment:  

> _“Big bad men to fuckin’ afraid of love. Goddamn sad if ya ask me.”_

 He lets out a weary sigh and gets up from his desk. Steve is ready to find something strong to drink and another warm body to sleep in – at least, to forget for now.

* * *

  _“Why are you going back there after what happened the last time?” your roommate, in all her simplicity and lack of drama, can’t help but ask from her spot on your bed._

_“I need a place to drink and forget for the night,” you can’t help but bite back. You add a bit more makeup on, as you pause to give her a look. She frowns, though she understands where you are coming from after hearing how your work day. Unlike her, you couldn’t recharge with a nap and listening to a podcast._

_“ Just  stay safe and call me if you need me, all right?” she adds in.  You can’t help but smile because you know it takes her a lot of determination and plain of stubbornness to say something like that  ._

_“You’ll be the first one I call if something goes wrong,” you say with a smile. You grab your bag and head out the door._

* * *

 It’s early August when there is any semblance of Steve’s life coming back to normal again. Thus, he;s finally gets to visit the Black Widow again. The same can’t  be said  for Sam and Bucky as they have their own personal and work problems to deal with for the night. He expects to sit alone and spend the Friday night between some regulars and strangers.

Steve didn’t expect to be sitting next to the gal that had talked down to him during his birthday celebration. The one gal he had been blaming his recent slump on. To be honest, he doesn’t know how to feel about it all or about her, as she smiles at Clint.

“Can I have another, please?” she ends up asking the blond man, as Clint frowns for a second.  Steve can’t help but think that she sounds how he feels at the moment – tired, annoyed, and weary with the rest of the world because nothing seems to go his way .

Clint agrees to make it and ends up going to the back of the bar, as blue eyes keep watching her.

“Could you please stop staring,” she remarks. It drags Steve out of his concentration, “It’s getting kind of creepy.”

“Oh,” is all Steve manages to say as she turns around to look at him, “Sorry.”

“I doubt it,” she shrugs. Clint comes back with her drink and she gives him a brief thanks, “But, where’s the rest of your group of merry men?”

Steve can’t help but frown, “Busy.”

“Good,” is all she says before taking chugging down her drink in a few gulps, “I should leave before I catch whatever you guys have .”

Steve doesn’t say anything as he watches her put a few bills on the counter. She waves to Clint before walking out of the bar, as blue eyes stay on her the entire time. After she is gone, Steve turns to look at Clint as the bartender gives him a questioning look. 

_“Is she always like that?”_

Clint lets out a laugh and smiles, “She’s a very particular sort of girl. Knows when she doesn’t like from people and it sort of stays that way.”

Steve can’t help but sigh and take another sip of his drink, as he wonders what she might not like about him. To be honest, there was a list of things that he could recount from the first night that they had met.

Steve also couldn’t understand why he cared, as he started to talk to a pretty gal with smoky eyes two seats down from where she had been sitting . He keeps looking back every once and awhile, as if a ghost was haunting him for the rest of the night.

Steve ended up leaving the Black Widow alone that night.  

_  
_

 

 


	3. working together.

Steve is actually surprised when he doesn’t wake up with a hangover the next morning. But, if he thought about it the mood from the night before had left with more of a sour taste than too many drinks could’ve. 

As he showered and got ready for work, Steve couldn’t help but think of the woman that he had met twice now. Sure, there was once where Steve Rogers couldn't get any gal’s attention with a smile but that had been years ago. That version of Steve was over and done with by the time college rolled around.

Then, why was he questioning himself in front of the mirror at seven in the morning. 

With a sigh, Steve knew that this was going to be a shitty day. 

* * *

 

You know it’s going to be a bad day when your hear your roommate curse followed by the loud shutting of the door. You don’t know what made her late, but you know how much she hated it. 

For now, you couldn’t ask any questions as you got ready for work.   
Though you are going to have a talk later on why the couch was flipped over, there were drinks and clothing all over the hallway, and you almost ran into a blue-eyed hottie. 

Damn, this was a side you didn’t know of her and you were pretty sure that it was going to get worse before it got better. But, that is a story for another time.  

* * *

 

The moment you walk into the small office, it’s a shit show as the whole team seems to be imploding on itself. The manager is gone on another extended vacation and his supplement in sick. It's all on the day you are supposed to have your monthly meeting with your biggest partner. 

“You’re the senior most member of the design team,” the executive assistant -Nakia- states with a warm smile, “Someone has to present your most recent works. If not them, you.” 

You frown while looking up from your laptop. You didn’t blame Nakia for being so optimistic, she was always looking for people and their “moments to shine”. 

She was a ray of sunshine in your deary workplace, but you knew what would happen if you stepped out of line. You could see what upper management could do to a person over the years, until they got fired or quit. 

But, as shitty as your co-workers are, you enjoyed your work and the time you put into it.  

“No can do,” you answer back while trying to bite back a smile, “This has to be finished by the end of the day, Rumlow’s orders.” 

“Well,” Nakia does smile, “It’s a good thing Okoye and I can overwrite those then! So, be ready to leave at around 1pm!” 

You drop the pen you were holding and curse quietly, as you swear that Nakia is chuckling down the hallway. 

* * *

 

The meeting with the outsourcing team starts at around 2pm . Steve by then is on his second cup of Americano from the coffee shop downstairs. All the paperwork he had been ready to present isn’t where he thought it was going to be. Bucky wouldn’t answer is goddamn phone. His back had been hurting all morning from leaning too close to the subway rail line during rush hour. Now, he was hurting badly in those supposedly ergonomic chairs. 

To top it all off, he was going to have to deal with Brock Rumlow for the next hour. Today was honestly the worst day he has had in quite awhile and that was speaking volumes. 

He’s half-asleep when the other half of the group finally comes in. The door jolt him awake and instead of Brock followed by Jack, instead he sees two women. One he knows as Nakia -- the right-hand woman to the CEO of  _W DESIGN._  The other was also a very familiar face for a completely different reason.  

“--Senior Concept Artist,” is her job title as she hands him her business card and portfolio. Steve has to stop himself from gawking as she sits across from him.   
  


He is stuck between awe, confusion, and disbelief as he realized that most of the work he has love from this company is her doing and not a “team effort” as Rumlow had stated before. 

* * *

 

> _“I would like to see a complete overhaul of your current work. Something colorful and dreamy outlook would work best with this type of story. I am sure you could live up to those expectations.”_

You grit your teeth and bare it as Steve Rogers explains the new list of projects they have ready for your team. You can’t help but wonder if the world is being ironic or if the man is being cruel with his choice of words. 

From what you had surmised from seeing at the Black Widow, you knew the man could be petty as hell when he wanted to be. But, like how you dealt with Rumlow and Jack -- you would deal with him too. 

Besides, it would be a great opportunity -- like how Nakia and by extension T’Challa would say so as well. 

* * *

 

> _Mr. Rogers,_
> 
> _Thank you for all your commentary during the meeting. It was a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to working with you._

It's a simple email that Steve gets near the end of the day. Though, he isn’t sure why, but it feels like he needs to get a strong drink after this. 

And that he will need one after all this is said and done with.  


	4. the problems along the way.

It’s funny how your roommate won’t look at you in the eye for a good while. For such a quiet gal to end like this, you just had to imagine how good the man she had brought home or how winded-up and stressed she had to be to seek something like that out. It almost makes you laugh when she squeaks out an apology after fixing a few broken items here and there and finally flipping over the couch.   __

“Are you going to see him?” you finally ask as you share some leftover Italian food that she had brought from her job. She frowns looking at her phone for a second.

“He isn’t that type of person,” she remarks with a shrug. It seems like it bothers her more than she really wants to admit it, “Not gonna happen again.” 

She doesn’t leave room for discussion after that. However, she can’t help but laugh as you state: “At least, you got some.” 

* * *

 

He’s there the next time you to the Black Widow. Blue eyes, slicked-back dark hair, and a crooked smile. This time he is wearing a shirt and leaning into the booth with his friend --the one that isn’t Steve-- and a gal with a crooked smile to his left. You can see what your roommate meant, but you already knew that before anything else. 

You can’t help but think that she either has really bad taste or was really desperate to pick on the what-if club, as you dub them in your head now. You look at them one last time before going to sit down on the countertop where Nat was holding the bar tonight.

“What would you like?” Nat asks though she looks at you curiously. She doesn’t say anything though, as you ask for the usual. 

The dark-haired man laughs and he ends up leaving with the pretty gal soon afterward. You wonder if he does it all the time. It reminds you of something familiar. Your chest burns and you down another drink before downing and leaving the bar -- earlier than usual. 

You don’t notice that as you are leaving through the back door, Steve was entering through the front. Sam greets him and the night keeps moving forward. 

* * *

Between seeing less of your roommate due to her own work and putting in more hours at the office, especially after Rumlow and his second come back from their own issues, you are utterly exhausted most of the time. You simply don’t have time to commiserate at the Black Widow, as much as you do anymore. However, that might be a good thing, as you couldn’t stop looking at the dark-haired man and his friend the last time that you there. 

It wasn’t that you were interested in any sense of the world or that he was one of the best-looking men that you had seen, which he sort of was, but you just couldn’t put it over your head that your roommate has slept with him. You wonder how they meet and what sweet words he had said to have gotten into her pants. 

Maybe, the sex was really that good? At least, it was a logical assumption from your half-destroyed apartment. 

But, most of all, you wondered how she could keep moving forward and you were still--

“Hey, who's that supposed to be?” a curious voice can’t help but ask, as you turn to look up from the booth that you were currently occupying in a diner in-between your apartment and the Black Widow.

Blue eyes sparkle in amazement over the sketch pad currently in front of you -- an incomplete drawing, most eyes, and wrinkles, of what you can remember from his friend. You frown, though he slowly takes notice of this. 

“None of your business,” is how you remark as you take a sip of your drink before closing the pad. Steve ends up frowning in return as well. 

You were about to get up and head to the front counter to pay and leave  _ since you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing these idiot men-children everywhere you went.  _ Before you could do anything, Steve raises his hands in front of him and blocks you from getting up. 

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he sighs, as you finally take notice just how tired he looks, “I just thought it looked...nice.” 

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, “Thanks, I guess.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything else before giving you one more weary smile and going to find a booth -- one with a pretty blond woman sitting in the far end. Steve doesn’t give you another glance back as you let out a huff of air before picking up your things and going to pay your dinner. 

A temporary heaviness slowly blooms as move back into the busy New York streets. This really shouldn’t bother, but for some reason it all does.  


	5. this is why.

Steve doesn’t know why, but there is a certain someone that hasn’t left his

head in quite some time. It certainly doesn’t help that he had just received the art drafts for the advertisement project. He hadn’t looked at art for such a long time, but something about it just pulled him into it. It made him nostalgic and sad at the same time -- exactly what they had asked of her when it came to the book they were going to publish. 

  
It reminds him of the art piece that he had seen her drawing a couple of weeks back. It was enough to grab attention as well, but she pushed back and he had to go back to his (failure) of a date. Steve couldn’t help but think that she was either angry or drinking, sometimes a combination of both, when he saw her outside of that one meeting they had back in the beginning of last month. 

Tortured and suffering artist? Angst filled background?

“Don’t get pulled into that kind of trouble, Stevie,” he can already hear Bucky’s voice in the back of his head. However, Bucky shouldn’t be the one giving handing out that type of advice. 

Steve sighs, thinking that this might get worse before it gets better. 

* * *

It doesn’t help that Rumlow tears up your latest design before the weekend. It doesn’t help that you have to stay in later than usual to have a new concept complete before Monday morning. 

It doesn’t help that you end up a bit too much on the way back home to forget all the annoyance of the day. It doesn’t help that you can’t walk in heels while mildly inebriated. 

“Woah, there,” an oddly familiar voice lets out, as you turn upward to meet blue eyes, “Are you alright there?” 

You frown, but before you can say anything you feel the vague sensation of falling before blacking out completely. 

* * *

It’s mid-morning on Saturday when you gain some semblance that you had arrived home safely. Your roommate in her infinite patience makes you sit down on the small kitchen counter top, as she fixes you something light to eat and preps the first aid kid -- something that the both of you were already used to. 

“You know,” your roommate remarks with a smile, as she puts more alcohol on your busted lip, “It might be nice to say thank you the next time you see him.”

“Why?” you remark angrily, as you push back due to the sting. She shakes her head before adding some antiseptic cream. This hadn’t happened since college, but you had cut down on the drunken bar fights and mosh pits since then. You were calmer, but that still didn’t mean that you had gotten rid of alcohol as your main vice. 

She lets out an annoyed sigh before playing the napkin, “Well, you’re working with him and he obviously did a good thing.” 

  
“I--”

“Let’s not take this whole lone whole bullshit right now,” she laughs. You stop talking and look at her with wide eyes, “Say thank you and move on. Simple as that.”

“Yes mother,” you remark, as her smiles grows. You know there is an underlying remark to all her worry, but she won’t say it out-loud. You decide not to say anything about the subject either. 

* * *

It doesn’t leave Steve for the rest of the weekend, after he had managed to get her to give him her home address and meeting a tired roommate, that the artist he was working was a  _ barely functioning alcoholic _ . 

It was the only thing that seemed like a logical assumption, but the way he had found her on the street was certainly more than he had ever seen from her. He wondered what had happened to tip her over, but he really didn’t have that type of relationship with her. He barely knew anything about her, outside that she was an artist and was an angry cynic. 

“Sir,” the receptionist with pretty eyes calls out to him, “You have something waiting for you.” 

Steve glances at the flower bouquet next to here. It dark leaves and flowers with a bright sunflower at the center. His name written in the center and though it feels a little silly to be getting flowers that doesn’t stop the goofy smile from growing on his lips.

> _ Thanks.  _

That is all the card says, though he knows who it’s from -- there is only one logical explanation. Steve is sure that he should just leave this as is, but there is a more masochists and curious side to him that wants to get to know her better. 

 


	6. the aftereffects.

Steve doesn’t hear anything about the flowers, not a call or simply email that she liked them. He wasn’t surprised by the turn of events, but it still left him severely disappointed. 

It was as if something had been turned on inside and Steve found himself looking into a way to see her again. Maybe, she would be in one of their design meetings or he could catch back at the Black Widow when neither Sam or Bucky was around. 

He would greet her and it would go from there.

But that never came into fruition as fall turned to winter.

* * *

It doesn’t help much that the end of the year is the busiest for you. Between redesigns, prospects for what is coming up in spring, and all the events you have to go to -- you simply don’t have time for yourself and a quick drink at your favorite bar. Your anxiety is at an all-time high when Rumlow calls you to his office, Okoye at his side. 

_ “Due to Jack leaving,” Rumlow had started off, “You will be promoted, thanks to Okoye’s recommendation, to his previous position.”  _

By the end of the whole meeting, you needed a stiff drink with all the added programs and people that you would be dealing with, especially if one of them was Rumlow. 

Not once had Steve come back into your mind since you had received those flowers and even when you were drunk and happy in the safety of your apartment did you utter his name.

Your roommate would beg to differ though, not that she would tell you though. 

* * *

December turns into January and Steve wonders what the hell has happened to do, especially when he doesn’t see her around the Black Widow anymore.

“Aren’t you too hung up on this one gal,” Bucky starts as he watches Steve get ready, “Especially one that doesn’t like you.” 

Steve doesn’t have an answer as he grabs his jacket and heads out the door. Bucky shakes his head and simply goes back to watching TV, ignoring his own problems on the other hand. 

* * *

“Do you want to have a drink together?” 

> _ Just be nice. _

It’s your siblings and mother, and even roommate's voice in the back of your head ringing as you look up at those bright blue eyes that you had met by chance tonight. It would be easy to be polite -- give him a tight-lipped smile and say  _ no _ . However, he isn’t doing anything wrong at the moment, in fact it was quite the opposite but you had always been the type of person to dislike a person after their initial first impression. 

Steve, back in the bar and in his office, had never once given you a good impression of himself, his friends, or the current state of his life. Though, there wasn’t much that you can say on the matter because, well, look at you. 

However, this feeling --this sense of dread had saved you more than once before, but looking at him giving you a bashful smile makes the voices echo in the back of your head even louder. It drowns out that fear altogether, which ends up making you even more pissed and annoyed over your own indecision. 

“What the hell do you want, Steve?” 

It comes out more bitter than you intended as his smile falters for a bit, but Steve Rogers is a stubborn fool. He doesn’t know how to take no for an answer and maybe he even caught that small slice of indecision on your face. You are sure you miss his answer, but you don’t really care. 

You wanted to be left alone. 

> _ Just be nice. _

“Do whatever you what,” is all you manage to say, choosing the middle road of all your worries and the instilled politeness in you, before turning back and taking a sip of your non-alcoholic drink. 

You hear the barstool move and let out a silent groan in the defeat as you watch the man take a seat next to you. He offers you a smile before turning to Natasha and ordering a drink. 

He doesn’t say anything else, as you stay seated there quietly seething over his choice of companionship.

However, he is sure that he catches you glancing at him every once and a while until you finally decide to leave the Black Window. As he grabs his coat and follows you, he can only hope that Natasha grinning like a Cheshire cat can be a good sign. 

 


End file.
